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Cairo–From this roof, I can see out over Cairo, beyond the historic stone walls of the Citadel fortress to the modern steel and glass skyscrapers that line the banks of Nile.

Somewhere behind me, a radio is playing Arabic pop songs. And the sun is so hot, I am using an umbrella like a Victorian parasol.

I am up here because of that sun – and what it can do. This roof belongs to Hanna Fathy Rostom and his family, and Hanna is showing me his solar thermal water heater.

And his biogas unit. And the roof garden fertilized by output from the biogas unit. And the solar panel that is powering the radio playing the pop songs.

This roof provides Hanna and his family hot water, cooking gas, something to eat, and cool tunes to enjoy at the end of a long day.

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These sorts of renewable energy systems are often associated with people who have, let's say, disposable incomes. But Hanna and his family live and work at the other end of the consumption cycle.

Hanna's house is in the Manchieyet Nasser area of Cairo, also known as Garbage City. It is a network of narrow roads and informal housing leaning up against sheer cliffs.

It got its name from the main occupation of the majority of the 50,000 or so residents. The citizens are mostly Coptic Christians who migrated from Upper Egypt starting around the 1940s. Every day, waves of them ripple out to collect recyclable rubbish from Cairo and beyond. Books missing pages, broken plastic dish racks, dead batteries, ripped clothes, you name it, the people of Garbage City will find a use, or a market for it, for it – up to three-quarters of all waste produced.

Once collected, often by donkey cart or overloaded pickup truck, and sometimes from hundreds of kilometres away, it is brought back to the neighbourhood and sorted.

In courtyards, whole families pick through hills of garbage, meticulously turning the chaos of civilizational debris into smaller piles of salvageable materials. The streets of the enclave are lined with enormous bags brimming with crushed plastic bottles, collapsed cardboard boxes and cooking oil tins waiting to start life again as something new.

On the way up to the roof, we pass Hanna's mother and brother in the entrance. They are sitting and chatting, while deftly sorting keyboard components and frayed wiring.

Hanna's systems are mostly made from things he found in the trash. Even his excellent English is a by-product of others' excess.

"I taught myself English from children's books I found in the garbage," he explains. "It took me 2 1/2 years."

And he's not finished yet. Holding his hands apart, as if to measure a large fish, he says, "I am working on French. And German. I feel there is still lots of room in my brain for more languages. And sciences. I love math and physics."

Hanna's innovation and commitment is catching. He's already taught some neighbours how to build their own units, and freely offers training to all comers.

And he's not alone in recycling and renewing life itself in Garbage City. The Association for the Protection of the Environment (E.P.A.), a local organization, is based out of a leafy, green complex in the heart of the City. There is education for the local kids, a nursery, adult literacy, and a health program. E.P.A. is largely funded from the sale the work of local women. They turn scraps from clothing factories into chic purses, homey quilts and throw pillows. Used office paper becomes high-quality, flower petal-encrusted writing paper. Bits of cloth are woven on looms into fine carpets.

There is a palpable warmth and caring in Garbage City. Children cluster around strangers, eager to practise their English. Grandmothers smile shyly as newcomers pass by. No one is begging, and most are busy, but always have time to chat.

In our era of environmental concern, there is a lot of talk about sustainability and communities in the universities, cafés and governments of the world. They could learn a thing or two from Hanna, his family, and his neighbourhood.

Their hard work is cleaning the streets of Cairo, creating value out of rubbish, pioneering low-cost renewable energy systems and providing education, health care and trips to the beach for those who need it – sometimes even to the soundtrack of solar-powered Arabic pop.

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